As the waves move on
by public static void
Summary: After Vernon's death, Dudley takes Petunia to the same beach where she taught him how to swim.


This is a very late submission for the **Baton Pass Competition**.

Team Five, Oneshot Writer: Petunia and Dudley; optional prompt: teaching someone how to swim.

* * *

The waves crashed against the beach in a calm motion. Along with the soft, salty breeze and the sun setting over the horizon, the waves created a tranquil atmosphere. Petunia's mind, though, was in turmoil.

A month had passed since Vernon's death and the loneliness kept nibbling at her, slowly taking apart pieces of her to make space for the growing grief. Not even the thought of Dudley or her new grandchild, Malcolm, could make her smile as Vernon had.

Ironically, the memory of her husband's goofy laughter produced a sad smile at the same time as a wave brushed over her bare feet. Her toes wiggled at their own accord, or so it seemed to her. Lately, she had felt as if someone else was in charge of her body, taking her from place to place without her consent.

It was how she ended up at this sad beach, with only the company of her son who even at that moment was trying to make her smile by pretending to surf. It would have worked had Dudley been ten or eleven years old, but as a man of thirty-six, it was more annoying that amusing.

"Please," she told him with a weak voice; she was surprised by the rough quality of it though it was obvious after her unwillingness to talk for the past weeks. "Take me... Home."

The plea made Dudley's face contort in what Petunia could only guess it was sadness, though there was no way he could really be feeling the same sadness as she did. He had lost a father, yes, but Petunia had lost her companion; Vernon, for all his faults, had been the man who woke her up every single day with a kiss and a cup of tea.

"Where do you want to go?" asked Dudley with a sad expression. Petunia grimaced, thinking of home. She didn't want to be there, where she would be alone with the constant reminder of Vernon's untimely death. The saddest part was that she was the only one who appeared to be sad; even his colleagues only were at his funeral only to be polite.

They think she didn't hear the muffled chuckles when the boys carrying the coffin fell to their knees under her dear Vernon's weight.

"Mum!"

Dudley's voice startled her.

"Sorry, pumpkin," she told him, pinching his cheek as she had done years ago when the three of them were happy and together. "What were you saying?"

Dudley, patiently, smiled at her with something beyond sadness in his face. Petunia refused to believe it was _pity_.

"I asked if you want to come swimming, Mum," Dudley repeated.

He was looking down, he had to after growing so much during those last years where the three of them stayed together. Still, Petunia knew deep inside her that her child looked up to her even after their fight about... Harry.

"I can't," Petunia told him, looking past him and staring at the last colourful show of the sun before leaving until the next morning.

"Only for a few minutes, if you want, Mum," Dudley begged her. "Cho and Malcolm will be expecting us and they'll want to hear how we had fun."

His words were carefully chosen, Petunia knew. He always blackmailed her with Malcolm's need of fun tales.

"I really can't." Petunia insisted. "I never learned to swim."

Dudley looked bewildered, and his face made Petunia giggle for a few seconds.

"All those trips to the beach when I was little..." he began to say, shaking his head and smiling, amused. "Wait! You taught me how to swim, Mum!"

Petunia allowed herself to laugh freely; the giggles became cackling until her side was aching and the tears she had repressed came out bursting. Dudley helped her to the sand, where she knelt and felt the waves moving against her skin.

Dudley's hand moved in circles on her back and soon his shoulder was wet with tears.

When her cries became sobs and the sobs subsided, Dudley spoke again.

"Come on, Mum," he said and stood up, pulling Petunia to her feet as she tried to wipe away the vestiges of tears. He was pulling her into the ocean, "I'm going to teach you how to swim!"

Petunia didn't have the will to refuse and let herself be taken to the sea, where the water reached up to her waist. Her ridiculous Bermuda shorts swiftly moved against her skin following the movement of the water; the sea turned out to be colder than she expected but said movement and the coldness were a balm for her soul.

"First, you hold my arms like this," Dudley said, positioning her hands around his elbows and his elbows around her arms.

"I remember teaching you this, Dudley," Petunia reprimanded, smiling. It had been years ago and she only dared to go into the sea with Dudley because Vernon had been there, protecting her and Dudley if a wave took them further into the sea.

"Yes. You told me not to be nervous, but I wasn't," Dudley remembered with a grin. "It was a great day. But stop distracting me, Mum. Now, raise your feet backwards and try to stay parallel to the water."

"You didn't know what _parallel_ meant," Petunia laughed, though she obeyed Dudley's instructions and tried to float on her stomach. Dudley was still holding her arms and he snorted when Petunia reminded him of his lack of knowledge back then.

"But I was good at swimming!" Dudley insisted. "I think that came from you because you're doing it, Mum!"

Petunia felt ridiculous. She was sixty-one years old and her son was trying to teach her how to swim? If her friends knew they would laugh! Then again, Petunia wasn't sure anymore that she ever had friends. None of them had stayed with her when Vernon passed; they were polite but indifferent as Petunia cried.

"Mum?"

She hadn't noticed, but her feet were touching the sand again and she was just standing in the sea. It felt glorious.

"Sorry, pumpkin," she said, lifting her legs again. The water supported her weight, and it was strange to feel the motion of the water rocking her back and forth. "Now what?"

"Look at yourself! You can float already, Mum," Dudley said with the same voice he used with little Malcolm. Petunia had to smile at that. "Now, I will walk backwards and you will kick the water for a while. Then we'll see if you're ready to do it on your own."

Petunia's mood soured. She would have to be on her own; this afternoon was good and all, but soon Dudley would return to London with his family and she would be left alone.

She was about to say it was enough when she looked up and saw Dudley's grin. He was happy. He was proud of himself for teaching her this; proud of his attempts at making her smile. She was proud of him too.

"I can try it now," she offered and loosened her hold on Dudley's elbows.

"Are you sure?" he asked though immediately let go, keeping his arms open and staying close as if wanting to catch her as soon as she proved herself unable to swim on her own.

She would have to be on her own.

"Remember," Dudley called out. "When you swim alone you need to alternate the movement of your legs and arms. Left kick and right arm go together, and a right kick goes with your left arm."

Petunia was too occupied to spare him a smile. It was harder to remain afloat on her own but she had to do it. Maybe then they could go back home.

"You're doing it, Mum!" Dudley cheered on her and Petunia found in his voice the strength to keep kicking. "You're swimming!"

She was. A wave of pride washed over her at the same time as a wave threw her forward. She managed to keep floating –swimming.

She _could_ be on her own.


End file.
